dead-heading roses
a yellow blossom
for my hair

algae bloom
the green frog jumps
into my green pond

damselflies
dart across the water
a bluer blue

end of summer
more cucumbers
than neighbors

still summer night
the taste of my daughter's sweat
as I kiss her brow

quavering heat
cicadas cry
in tempo

rising
in a nimbus of midges
river baptism

cumulus
crossing the blue pools
of her gaze

riding in the rain

My father was an avid equestrian and disciplinarian. His four daughters dreaded riding with him because he sternly and constantly corrected our form or technique. When I was 15 and more interested in Seventeen magazine and fashion than going on horseback with my dad, that's where I found myself one early summer day. I wish I could remember why we went riding together; I certainly wouldn't have gone willingly.

As we guided our horses up the narrow trail through the aspen groves and Indian paintbrush of the national forest--dad in his cowboy hat in front and I, bare-headed in back--a light, warm rain began. I do recall the easy quiet between us with only the sound of soft rain, squeak of saddles bearing our weight, and a horse's hoof striking an exposed root or rock. Just as vividly I can still smell the ozone, the woods, and the scent of wet horse and leather.

warm rain
only the trail before us
silence between us

midsummer
on its shimmering thread
spider poised halfway

summer's warm breeze
wanting to hear again
my name in your voice

the taste
of pine's bitter honey
these bitter tears

relentless sun
my lips meet the cool arc
flowing from the hose

limned in light
across night's dark scroll
Cassiopeia

In the Wyoming high country sego lilies bloom for only two weeks in mid-June. Their exotic beauty is unexpected amid sage brush, aspen, and pinon pine. My Mormon ancestors foraged for these nutritious bulbs in lean times. To me, they were a true sign of summer as the snows receded from the foothills.

homesick--
hungry only for the beauty
of sego lilies

live oak
dripping moss
dripping moonlight

sidewalk chalk art
marilyn's mole
crawls away

afternoon heat
tandem damselflies
bask on a reed

yanking up thistles
the confession
I regret

summer heat--
kimono hung on the wall
billows from the fan